Forgetful - Vesna McMaster

‘Are you losing it?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘We had a whole conversation about this last night.’

‘DID we?’

‘Yes, you had this whole thing about how you really don’t like trifle, and you’ve been eating it just to keep me company, and truth be told you’d rather never see another bowl of trifle as long as you live.’

‘DID I?’ Her eyes pop wide. She silently considers that the truth of this statement is undeniable. ‘I have absolutely no recollection.’

‘Anyway, that’s fine. Never mind about the trifle.’

‘No, it’s OK, I mean I wouldn’t be eating it if I really minded.’

‘I can’t believe you can’t remember.’

Her eyes narrow. If he knew some of the things she can’t remember his mental health would suffer. She adopts a look of positivity. ‘How about we have something else. Pastries?’

‘I don’t want pastries,’ he says.

‘No, neither do I,’ she mutters, then louder, ‘OK, cake. Cheese. Nuts. There’s a new patisserie down the road, I brought their menu back the other day. I could order from there. Would you like that?’

‘Maybe.’ He pouts. ‘Where’s the menu?’

‘I forget. It was on the table yesterday.’

‘I’m telling you, you’re losing it.’

Something tips over in the balance of her psyche. She blinks, then slowly turns her head round to face him with a baleful stare. He watches in alarm as her focus visibly changes from behind his left ear, to his face, to right through his head. Her face empties of expression. ‘Hello, can I help you?’ She says in a sing-song voice, quite unlike her own.

He steps back in alarm. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Who are you?’ She flickers the smallest of polite smiles at him. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Oh my god. Are you having a stroke? What’s going on?’

Her gaze flits to the window. ‘Could you answer the door?’

‘What door?’

‘The front door. Can’t you hear? They’re knocking.’

‘Really? Wait right there.’ He dashes out to the front.

As he steps out, craning to see down the driveway to the purported visitor, the door shuts smartly behind him. He spins round. ‘Hey!’

Her focus comes back to the room, and she smiles. She picks up a book, and settles down on the sofa, ignoring the cries from out the front. Someone will come and take him away soon, surely.